The Wizard's Soul
by Canders Eight
Summary: Hermione Granger finds herself spending the summer at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, studying as an apprentice for Professor Severus Snape. As the war between Light and Dark spirals out of control, two souls find friendship, love, and redemption.
1. Propositions

_Author's Note: Welcome! This story begins at the end of the Golden Trio's sixth year. I will currently have this story rated at T, but it might move up to M as the story progresses. Your feedback is always appreciated! _

_Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and characters all belong to J.K. Rowling_

**Chapter One – Propositions **

Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk, merrily sucking on a lemon drop. The bright spring sunlight that streamed through the windows illuminated the golden office and gave the room a bright feeling, despite the dark times the world was in. He reached to the edge of his desk and began to stroke a sleeping Fawkes's feathers, desperately trying to remember a time when the world was more than a chessboard, when his mind was not filled with countless strategies. A green flash of light erupted from the fireplace and interrupted Dumbledore's thoughts.

The man who stepped out was tall and dark. His thin frame was hidden beneath numerous black robes, and his hair fell in dark curtains over his face. A slim, pale hand pushed his hair aside, revealing sharp features and eyes as dark as his clothing.

"You summoned me, Headmaster?"

"Yes, Severus, yes. Please, do have a seat. Could I tempt you with some tea? A lemon drop, perhaps?"

Severus Snape said nothing as he dropped into the chair opposite the Headmaster, scowling slightly.

"No? Alright then, straight to business!" Dumbledore said jovially, rubbing his hands together. He leaned back slightly in the chair. "What are your plans for the summer holiday, Severus?"

Snape rolled his eyes and crossed his legs.

"I thought we were going to speak of business, Albus, not my personal life."

"Oh, my dear boy, this is business! Humor an old man."

Snape sighed quietly and intertwined his fingers in his lap.

"Spinner's End, most likely. St. Mungo's has owled me, asking for my services in their potions department, but I have no doubt that the Dark Lord will be summoning me more often once Hogwarts is out of session."

Dumbledore hummed to himself and smiled, steepling his fingers in front of his face.

"And tell me, Severus, are you looking forward to going back to Spinner's End?"

"Do you have an alternative?" Snape snarled, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward. The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes was infuriating, and usually meant that he had thought of a new torture for Snape to endure.

"As a matter of fact, I do! How would you feel about spending the holiday in Grimmauld Place?"

"No."

"Severus, think of the-"

"No."

"Severus, you're being unreasonable."

"Unreasonable? _Unreasonable?!_ What in Merlin's name did you think I would say? 'Yes, Albus, I'd love to spend the summer months in a dark and dusty excuse for a house that's filled with the people who despise me.' You must be joking."

And just like that, the sparkle in Dumbledore's eyes vanished, leaving them icy and cold.

"I'm afraid I must insist, Severus. And you shall listen to my reasons. If you're to survive the summer, you'll need to provide Tom with more information than normal. It is imperative that he believes you're spending all your time spying on me. What better place to spy on me than at the Order's Headquarters? At least if you're there, I can feed you false information, and you can spend your time doing more important things. I believe you have a number of personal projects you've been meaning to work on. I'm prepared to create a full potions lab in Grimmauld Place if you decide to stay."

Snape stood up quickly, the chair he was sitting in scraping across the floor as he rose. He clasped his hands behind his back and paced back and forth, deep in thought. The old man had a point, it was the perfect cover. The Dark Lord would believe that he had gained Dumbledore's total trust, and he would have a private lab, which was a far cry better than what he had at Spinner's End. But _the people! _The horrid, horrid people who would be staying there as well. Although, if he had the lab, he supposed he could spend most of his time there and only join the others for meal times…and it was hard to say no to Molly Weasley's cooking. He buried his head in his hands and let his shoulders slump.

"I don't really have a choice, do I?" He murmured.

"My boy, there is always a choice. But I would hope you can see that this choice is, in fact, the most logical."

"Fine!" Snape snapped. "Fine. I'll stay at Grimmauld Place. But I want an exact replica of my private lab that I have here. And I want the freedom to put my own wards on it."

Dumbledore clapped his hands and smiled, the twinkle returning to his eyes.

"Lovely! I'll prepare it right away. You're making the right decision, Severus."

"I certainly hope so," he muttered under his breath, stalking to the fireplace and grabbing a handful of floo powder. "The Dungeons!"

There was a flash of green, and Severus Snape was gone. Fawkes screeched and ruffled his feathers, upset about being woken from his nap. He stretched his wings as if he was yawning and shuffled across the desk, expecting his afternoon treat. Dumbledore obliged and stroked the crimson feathers lovingly, humming to himself softly. _Oh yes,_ he thought, _this will prove to be quite an interesting summer._

Hermione Granger gently placed her last folded jumper into her case before tapping it with her wand, magically closing and locking the large chest. She ran her fingers through her curly hair and took a deep breath, observing the empty room around her. By now, all of her roommates were gone and she was the last girl in Gryffindor tower. Hermione reached out and lovingly stroked the crimson curtains of her bed, smiling gently. She knew very well that this might be the last time she was ever in this room, and the thought saddened her. This summer was sure to be a defining one, and there was a strong chance that a return to Hogwarts for her seventh year would be too dangerous. The scholar in her panicked at the thought, the mere idea that she might get behind in her studies, but the rational part of her realized that her life was more important than a few assignments. No, she would be well prepared. With special permission from Madam Pince, she had been allowed to make duplicates of all the books she thought she would need, and they were all miniaturized and packed safely away. With another sigh and a quick straightening of her jumper, Hermione cast a quick _Wingardium Leviosa_ on her case and began the descent down Gryffindor Tower. Ron and Harry would be waiting for her near the great hall with the portkey that would take them to Grimmauld Place for the summer, and it wouldn't do to be late.

Ten minutes later, she was walking towards Ron and Harry, and for the life of her she couldn't wipe the smile off of her face. A summer spent in the Order's headquarters meant a summer of safety – something she was unused to. And, on top of that, Professor Dumbledore had asked her to a private meeting once she arrived! _Yes,_ she thought to herself, _this will prove to be an excellent summer! _

"Ready?" Harry asked, his smile almost as big as Hermione's.

"Ready!" Ron and Hermione agreed, placing their hands on the chipped dinner plate. Hermione felt a tug at her navel, and then they were spinning rapidly, the room blurring around them. Almost as soon as it began, it was over, and the three were clutching each other in the foyer of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, desperately trying to calm their stomachs.

"Ronald? Harry? Hermione?" A voice called from the kitchen. The door burst open and out came Molly Weasley, clad in a flour dusted apron. Her face broke into a radiant smile as she saw the trio as she ran to them, enveloping each in a warm hug. "Hungry? Any of you? Dinner's not until six, but I've just made some biscuits and tea if you'd like, or maybe I could whip up some-"

"Molly, Molly," a gentle voice interrupted. Albus Dumbledore stepped out from the kitchen behind her, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Let's allow the children a moment to breathe, shall we? In any case, I was wondering if you, Miss Granger, would accompany me for some tea upstairs? I've just discovered a rather delightful blend that I'd like to try."

Hermione gulped and nodded her head quickly, and was filled with a sense of nervousness. It just occurred to her that she had never before had a private meeting with Professor Dumbledore, and she was more anxious than she had originally planned. He smiled gently at her, those blue eyes twinkling, and beckoned for her to follow him up the stairs. She stayed close behind him, making a point to ignore the nattering portrait of Mrs. Black. Professor Dumbledore opened a door for Hermione and ushered her into a pleasant looking office – a room he had certainly charmed to look more inviting than it originally was. She smiled at him and took a seat in one of the leather bound chairs, lacing her fingers in her lap. Dumbledore poured her a cup of tea and stirred in two sugars, handing it to Hermione. He poured himself a mug, adding three spoons of sugar and a splash of milk, before settling down in the armchair opposite her.

"To business, then," he began. "Miss Granger, would you forgive me if I spoke very bluntly?"

"Of course, Headmaster." She replied politely. The familiar feeling of ice shooting through her veins filled her again as her nervousness flared.

"This summer, a task must be completed that is crucial to the downfall of Voldemort."

"Horcruxes, sir?" Hermione remembered Harry explaining what these pieces of soul were, and that they had to be destroyed in order to make Voldemort mortal again.

"Yes, Miss Granger. Horcruxes. I am aware that Harry has told you about them, and I am sure you know how difficult they are to destroy. I have decided to devote this summer to the destruction of these horcruxes, with the aid of Harry and Mr. Weasley."

Hermione glowed in her seat. This was the project he had hinted at! A chance to destroy pieces of Voldemort, to make him mortal! She could barely contain her excitement, before a thought entered her mind that made her heart drop.

"With the aid of Harry and Ron…and surely myself as well, sir?"

Dumbledore frowned and gently placed his teacup on an end table, leaning forward slightly. Hermione felt her heart plummet even further.

"Miss Granger, you would no doubt be a valuable asset, but it's just not safe. I have no doubt in your abilities as a witch, but these horcruxes will be especially hostile towards muggle-borns. It's a risk I'm not willing to take, especially when I have an assignment that would serve you much better here, at headquarters."

She brightened slightly at that, and Dumbledore continued talking.

"I am currently creating a state of the art potions laboratory in the basement of Headquarters. Professor Snape will be joining us for the summer in order to work on a number of personal projects, several of which would be a great help to the order. I would like you to study under him, as an apprentice."

Hermione was frozen in her chair. Her idea of a perfect summer was definitely not being holed up in a basement with Professor Snape – the man hated her!

"Professor…Sir…surely Professor Snape hasn't agreed to this? I'm his least favorite student, I'm sure he wouldn't want my help!"

"Severus can be a coarse man, but he has spoken highly of you, in his own way. I have informed him that he needs an assistant, and that it is non-negotiable. I assure you, my dear, that he will treat you with respect."

Hermione bit her lip and nodded slowly. If the Headmaster promised that Snape would respect her, she could certainly respect him.

"I'll do it. I'll need a few days to review last year's notes from potions, but I'll do it. Was there anything else we needed to discuss?"

"I believe that's it, Miss Granger! Now, I'm sure you'll want to get downstairs with the boys. Molly's biscuits are sublime and I would hate for you to miss out." He winked at her and stood, ushering her out the door. She descended the staircase quickly and walked to the kitchen, welcomed by the rest of the Weasleys and plenty of hugs. Hermione quickly snagged a biscuit before Ron could devour his tenth, and chewed on it thoughtfully.

_My, this will be an interesting summer. _

_A/N: What did you think? :) Please review!_


	2. Darkness

_A/N:Thank you so much, all of you who read the first chapter of this story! I had originally planned on updating once a week, but since I got so many followers and even a review, I decided that chapter two just couldn't wait! As always, please review! Thanks for reading! :) _

_Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the Harry Potter world and Characters. _

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><p>"Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it."<br>― Terry Pratchett, _Reaper Man_

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 2 - Darkness<span>**

"An assistant?!"

Hermione cringed as she heard a deep voice bellow upstairs. She had an inkling that Dumbledore had not been entirely truthful earlier when he said that he had already informed Professor Snape of her apprenticeship. She tried desperately to shrink even further into the chintz armchair while Ron and Harry, who were seated on the leather sofa opposite her, looked at her curiously. Harry was about to open his mouth to speak when he was silenced by the sound of footsteps thundering down the staircase. The trio turned to look at the base of the staircase and saw Professor Severus Snape glaring back at them, his eyes completely murderous. He swept across the room, black robes billowing, until he was hovering over Hermione.

"It seems," he spat, "That we have been _assigned_ to work together. Make no mistake, I am only allowing this because the headmaster _insists._ You will meet me at the staircase at eight'o'clock tomorrow morning, and if you have any sense of self preservation, you will not be late."

Hermione nodded weakly and watched him turn on his heel before stalking out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

"Bloody hell, Hermione! What was that about?" Ron asked, his eyes wide in shock from the encounter.

"Dumbledore doesn't want me to hunt horcruxes with you." Hermione whispered, her voice broken.

"What?!" The boys exclaimed. Hermione smiled at their outburst, but shook her head at them.

"It's alright, I promise. It makes sense, when you think about it. Voldemort's whole ideology is that people like me shouldn't exist, and that the only way to get rid of muggle-borns is to kill us. If I ever crossed paths with Voldemort, he would kill me, right? What do you think would happen if I crossed paths with a piece of his soul?"

The boys said nothing at that, but looked thoughtful. Hermione continued speaking.

"So, since I can't actually be there with you, Professor Dumbledore has given me another task to keep me busy. Professor Snape will also be staying here over the summer, so I'll be helping him work on several projects for the Order. I have a few ideas of my own, too! I'm going to try to develop a horcrux destroying potion, so that way you can destroy a horcrux on site, rather than looking for a basilisk fang, or the Sword of Gryffindor. It'll certainly be intimidating working with him, but I'm sure I'll learn loads."

"Are you sure you're okay with this? I'm sure I could talk to Dumbledore, we could work something out!"

"Harry, I promise, I'm fine! Now, let's go eat dinner – it smells fantastic!"

The trio made their way to the kitchen where they were completely stuffed with Molly Weasley's excellent cooking. The house elves at Hogwarts were excellent cooks, but there was something about a mother's cooking that just can't be recreated. Once they were well fed and welcomed to the rest of the order, they were shown to their rooms and sent to bed. In the morning, Dumbledore would take Ron and Harry to a rumored horcrux location, and Hermione would begin to review for her first potions session with Professor Snape. She changed quickly into sleeping shorts and a tank top before crawling into the bed and pulling the blankets over herself. As she drifted slowly into sleep, the last thoughts in her mind were of Professor Snape's glare, and how she wished that she had the ability to intimidate other people like that.

Hermione woke up several hours later to the sound of creaking outside of her door. She sat up instantly, wand in hand, hair a messy cloud framing her face. With a whispered _lumos_, she crawled quietly out of bed and padded slowly down the staircase, careful to not make a sound. When she reached the bottom, she looked down the hallway and saw a flicker of light escape from behind one of the doors. She approached carefully, wand arm outstretched. With a deep breath and a quick decision, she opened the door and stepped inside.

The room, which had once been filled with the Black family tree, was completely transformed. The once dingy and depressing walls were now covered with newspaper articles and photographs, some magical, some not. She inspected the articles closer, and saw that they all had the same theme.

_"Muggle Family of Four Brutally Murdered – Are the Death Eaters Behind This" _

_"Henrietta Ingla, Head of Department of Broom Safety, Missing" _

_"Dmitri Joergen, Father of Two Durmstrang Students, Missing" _

_Missing _

_Dead _

_Murdered _

_Kidnapped _

_Missing _

_Missing _

Hermione's fist flew to her mouth as she tried to stifle a sob. _This is it_, she thought. _This is what we're fighting. This is why we're here. _She wiped away her tears hastily and turned her attention to the real reason she had entered the room. In the far corner stood Harry Potter, his eyes focused on a specific picture and his shoulders shaking with his silent sobs. Hermione walked up behind him and slipped her hand in his, resting her hand on his shoulder.

"He was the only family I had left," Harry whispered between sniffs, "and he's gone because of me. And I know it sounds selfish, because I have you and Ron and everyone else here, but I wish that I had a family outside of you guys, as well. If I had calmed down, thought more rationally, Sirius would still be alive. It's all my fault!"

Harry dissolved back into weeping, and Hermione drew him into a fierce hug. There were no words to console this grief, but in that moment, she made a silent promise that she would discover a horcrux destroying potion, and end this bloody war.

The next morning found Hermione following the billowing black figure in front of her, struggling to keep up with his quick pace. The Professor was leading her down the narrow staircase to the basement of Number 12 Grimmauld Place – where she could only assume held the potions lab. As Snape opened the door to let Hermione in, she stopped in her tracks, overwhelmed by the sight before her. It was the most magnificent potions lab Hermione had ever seen. It certainly rivaled Hogwart's, and even gave St. Mungo's a run for its money. Three long, black tables were in the center of the room, and two of them were covered in carefully measured and organized ingredients, with a bubbling cauldron at the end closest to the door. The right side of the room was lined with shelves holding all manner of potions ingredients, and the left side was covered in floor to ceiling bookshelves. The wall opposite of the door had a large fireplace – which Hermione suspected was floo enabled – and two large armchairs.

"Excellent," Hermione breathed.

"Pardon?" Snape asked, cocking an eyebrow at her. Hermione instantly blushed and looked down at her feet.

"Oh! Erm, it's just, this is the most fantastic potions lab I've ever seen.."

Snape turned his nose up at the teenager. "It's adequate, I suppose. Now, are you ready to work or not?"

"Yes, sir," came the meek reply. "What do you need me to work on?"

The potions master sneered at his student and stepped in front of her, towering over her short frame. "Let's get something straight right now, shall we, Miss Granger? I don't _require_ you for anything. You are _not_ needed. You are a nuisance and the only reason you are here is because the Headmaster has decided that being my _assistant_," Snape spat, "is a better use of all of our time than you moping around the house because you were left behind. Are we clear?"

"Yes sir. Of course, sir." She bit her lip. Her rage was boiling within her, but she was determined not to let it show.

Snape straightened his back and walked to the third table, which was currently empty. With a wave of his wand, a cauldron appeared, along with rows of various ingredients.

"The first potion that the order requires is Polyjuice Potion, something I believe you are familiar with. There are two rules that you must follow when you are working in this laboratory. The first is that mistakes of any kind will not be tolerated. The second is that you are not allowed to ask any questions regarding the necessity for the potions we are brewing, nor the purpose they shall serve. Clear?"

"Crystal, sir."

"Get to work, then!" He barked. Hermione jumped at his voice and began to work, trying to ignore the eyes that were currently boring into the back of her head.

_If he's going to insist on watching me like this the whole time, nothing will ever get done. I'll show him. I'll show him I can do this without his help! _

_A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it, please review!_


	3. Potions

_A/N: Hello again! Welcome, followers and newcomers! Thank you for taking the time to read my little story, it warms my heart to see all of you visiting this page! The last chapter felt rather rushed to me, so I tried to slow this one down a little bit. I hope you enjoy it! _

_Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter universe and characters. _

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><p><strong>Chapter 3 – Potions<strong>

Hermione bent over the work table, shredding the boomslang skin into fine bits before sprinkling it into the cauldron. She stirred – thirty time clockwise, twenty six times counter clockwise – and added in the knotgrass. A sigh of contentment escaped her lips. Professor Snape had finally given her some space, and she had allowed herself to relax into the comforting motions of brewing. Ever since she had first set foot in a potions classroom, she had fallen in love with the art; how it was possible to save someone or cause their demise, to heal or hurt, the sheer power that could be harnessed by the right ingredients and a patient mind. She added the lacewing flies carefully and stirred the Polyjuice, internally jumping in victory. The potion was growing extremely thick and the color of mud, which was absolutely perfect.

"Well," Hermione announced, "all it needs now is to stew for twenty one days. Is there anything else you'd like me to do?"

"Hmm?" Snape shook his head. He had been deep in thought over a particular cauldron, and Hermione noticed that he seemed to be making up this potion as he went along. "Fine, yes. Come here and crush this unicorn horn into a fine powder."

Hermione did so, her hands trembling slightly. This was by far one of the most expensive ingredients she had ever worked with, and she didn't want to imagine what Snape's rage would be like if she ruined it. The heat of the potions lab was starting to affect her as well, and she could feel the wispy hair that had escaped from her bun plastering itself to the skin of her neck as a bead of sweat rolled down her temple. She chanced a glance up at Professor Snape and wasn't surprised to see that the heat seemed to affect him, too. Every few minutes he would slip a finger into his collar and pull his shirt away from his skin, or run both hands through his greasy black hair, pushing it away from his face. Finally, with a loud huff, he put the stirring rod down and stalked over to the coat rack by the door, shrugging out of his heavy black robes. The frock coat came off next, and soon her Professor was dressed more casually than she had ever seen him before. He was wearing a white oxford shirt and black trousers, and the look accentuated how tall and thin he was. He grimaced at himself, obviously uncomfortable with this level of undress, and hastily walked towards the bench again, fishing a black ribbon from his pocket. With one more wary glance at Hermione, he gathered his hair into a low pony at the back of his neck.

Hermione was dumbstruck. She focused all of her attention of crushing the unicorn horn, determined not to draw any attention to herself, and when she was finished, slid the unicorn horn across the table to him. He received it with a grunt, which she assumed was his way of saying 'thank you', and poured it into the potion. After stirring it twice and waving his wand over the cauldron, he turned to Hermione.

"What are you staring at, child?" He muttered, arching an eyebrow at Hermione. Her own eyes widened and she blushed as she turned away, embarrassed at being caught staring at her former Professor.

"Nothing, sir. And, with all due respect, I'm not a child, sir. I'm eighteen."

Snape furrowed his brow and turned to face her.

"Eighteen? That doesn't make sense."

"Since my birthday falls in September, I didn't start my first year until I was nearly twelve. Then I used a time turner my third year, which aged me another year. I'll be nineteen in a few months."

Snape grunted in response, and Hermione was quickly realizing that Severus Snape was not a morning person. She scurried over to the bench that she had previously been working at and gathered her robes and notes.

"If you no longer need me, Professor, may I go?"

"Hmm? Yes, fine. We will meet every morning at this time. Do not be late." He waved her off.

Hermione ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and burst into the kitchen.

"Hey, 'Mione!" Ron greeted her. Harry smiled weakly and raised his hand in greeting before focusing back on his breakfast. Hermione returned the salutation and sat down, observing the tell-tale signs of crying around Harry's eyes. She decided to leave that conversation until after breakfast.

"So, how were potions with the greasy git?" Ron asked.

"Ronald!" Hermione quipped, "Don't call him that! And it was absolutely fine – even moderately enjoyable. I've always liked potions, and once Professor Snape let me work in peace, it went very well."

"If you say so," he mumbled, reaching for another sausage. Hermione spooned some scrambled eggs on her plate.

"So, when do you boys leave with Professor Dumbledore?"

Harry perked up at this, all signs of sadness forgotten.

"Soon! We were supposed to have already gone, but he postponed it until eleven. It'll be great to finally be doing something useful."

Hermione gave Harry a genuine smile. She had lain awake for most of the night after their encounter, trying to think of a tactful way to bring it up. The truth of the matter was that Harry absolutely terrified her. To lose so much so early on in life was enough to fuel the smallest flame until it turned into a fiery inferno. Harry had a rather nasty habit of jumping at the tiniest bait, and his temper was one of the shortest she had ever seen. She knew that she could never truly understand the loss that Harry felt, but she couldn't help but worry that his emotions might do him more harm than good. Emotions, while being a powerful motivator, also had a tendency to blind people from common sense. Hermione glanced up at the clock and noticed it was ten minutes until eleven – she had to act quickly.

"Ron, I just remembered, there's a bottle of dittany in my purse on my bed. I know it's a little extreme, but you never know what you guys will run into. Would you grab it, please? It's silly, but I'll feel much better if you have it with you."

Ron, who's ears had perked up at the slightest mention of any danger, jumped from his chair.

"Sure thing! Thanks, 'Mione!" He ran out the door, calling behind his shoulder. "I'll be right back!"

As soon as she determined that Ron was out of earshot, she turned to Harry.

"Look, Harry, I wanted to talk about last night."

Harry waved his hand. "It's nothing, 'Mione. I just got upset, that's all. It's hard being here without Sirius – especially when I saw him standing next to my parents in that picture. Thanks for staying with me, though. It helped."

"I know it's hard, Harry, it just made me worry. I'm worried about you leaving. I know you're really upset right now but you must promise me that you won't let it get the better of you. I couldn't handle losing you, especially not losing you because you rose to someone's bait and got into an unnecessary fight."

Harry looked offended and opened his mouth to protest, but Hermione held her hand up.

"No, no, don't argue it. Just promise. Promise me that you'll keep your cool and do what needs to be done. The sooner these horcruxes are gone, the better. Promise?"

"Hermione, I-"

"_Promise?"_

"Fine," Harry relented with a sigh. "I promise not to get myself blown up because I got pissed off. Good enough for you?"

Hermione nodded, taking in every ounce of the crooked smile that her best friend was giving her. It was times like this where she could almost forget about the war, about the genocide of her kind, and remember that Harry was still a silly teenager. That dry sense of humor brought a smile to her own face every day. With a brisk nod and a tight hug, she walked with Harry out of the cozy kitchen and into the dusty foyer, where Ron was waiting for them. They didn't have time to discuss anything else, because by the time they were all back together again, Dumbledore walked in through the front door. Gone were the periwinkle robes and matching hat, and in their place were a surprisingly smart grey suit. Granted, his hair was still extreme by muggle standards, and there was something magical about his half moon glasses, but he could almost pass unnoticed in a muggle area.

"Harry, Mr. Weasley, are we ready?"

"Yes, sir!" They both chimed.

"Very well, then. Miss Granger, I am so terribly sorry that you can't accompany us. However, I'm sure that your talents will be put to good use, here. I've taken the liberty of expanding your room and inserting a bookshelf with some potions books that you may not have – I hope you will find them useful. Now, gentlemen, if you would please place your hands on my arms, we'll be off!"

The boys each stepped forward to wrap Hermione in a fierce hug before placing their hands on Dumbledore's arms, smiling widely. Dumbledore smiled and winked at her before turning on the spot, and with a loud crack, they were gone.

Hermione stared wistfully at the spot where her best friends just were for a moment before remembering Dumbledore's words. A library? In her room? She could barely contain her excitement as she sprinted up the stairs, throwing her door open. True to his word, her room had nearly doubled in size and now contained a very large bookshelf, a large desk, and a very comfortable looking armchair. She decided to waste no time and grabbed her notes from her nightstand, setting up on the new desk. The potion that Hermione wanted to create, which she had named _Inevitabilis Obitus,_ would be extremely dangerous and volatile. She searched the bookshelf with a single finger trailing over the spine of each book and was delighted to see that the Headmaster had included several restricted books in his selection. With one more squeal of joy, Hermione gathered several books in her arms and sat down to read them. For the first time since she arrived at Grimmauld Place, she finally felt useful.

_A/N: I hope you liked it! Thanks for reading, and please review!_


	4. Why?

_A/N: Hello again! Sorry for the wait, this chapter was difficult to write and it's a little longer than the previous ones. I also realized that I forgot to mention: this story is post OotP and is AU from there. Hope you like it, and please review! _

_Disclaimer: JKR owns everything. I own nothing. _

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><p>Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.<p>

Khalil Gibran

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><p><strong>Chapter Four – Why? <strong>

"Hermione! Tea's ready!"

"Coming, Mrs. Weasley!" Hermione marked her spot in the book she was reading and got up from the desk, raising her arms above her head as she gave a very cat-like stretch. Her back was sore from bending over the books, and her mind was tired from processing so much information. It had been ten days since Harry and Ron had left with Professor Dumbledore, and she hadn't made any progress on Inevitabilis Obitus. Creating potions from scratch was much more difficult than she had ever imagined. Plus, between helping Professor Snape brew all matter of potions for the Order and doing some occasional research for the boys, Hermione found that she rarely had time to really focus on her personal work. After giving her research one last wistful glance, she walked from her room and down the stairs, meeting Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen.

"Hello, dear. Sit – I've got news." Mrs. Weasley said, holding up a letter.

Hermione obliged and poured herself a cup of tea. "Excellent! Is it from Ron and Harry? Do they need information? I haven't found any more clues for them yet, but I'm still looking."

Mrs. Weasley frowned and sat down opposite Hermione.

"I'm afraid not, dear. It's from the Headmaster. I'm sure you're aware that the Order has a spy that we've kept within You-Know-Who's ranks, and they've informed us that there has recently been talk about attacking the parents of muggleborn students." Mrs. Weasley grimaced and poured herself another cup of tea. "It's absolutely horrid. The good news is, there has been no talk about anyone harming your parents specifically, but it's only a matter of time, dear. Professor Dumbledore has asked Professor Snape to escort you to your family home in an hour; you are to collect your parents and bring them back here, we will find a safe place for them to go into hiding from there. I know this is quite a lot to take in at once, but do you understand? Time is of the essence."

Hermione stared blankly into her cup of tea, her thoughts a jumbled mess. She had always know that her involvement with Harry would someday put her in danger, but she had always assumed that her parents were safe in their own world, away from magic and Lord Voldemort. And who on earth was their spy? She had, of course, worked out that there was one; how else would the Order always be one step ahead of the Death Eaters? She was suddenly very thankful that this person existed – her parents were her only living family and she couldn't bear to see anything happen to them.

"I understand," she heard herself say. "Is there any chance Professor Snape and I can go now?"

"No, I'm afraid. He's seeing to some business in Diagon Alley, but I'm sure he'll be ready to go as soon as he returns. I'm sure your parents are fine, Hermione. This is all just a precaution."

With a smile and a motherly squeeze of Hermione's shoulder, Mrs. Weasley got up and returned to kneading the bread she had been making.

"Hermione, dear, where is Crookshanks? I haven't seen the thing at all – did you bring him here for the summer?"

Hermione smiled at Mrs. Weasley's attempt to change the subject.

"No, I didn't think he'd be very welcome here, not with all the people that come through every day. The Magical Menagerie has a boarding house for student's pets, so he's residing there for the summer. He has his own little room and gets fed plenty, so he's quite happy. Truth be told, he'd probably hate it here. He's a very selective thing, not a fan of large crowds."

Her heart clenched with longing for her familiar – she knew that he was completely safe in Diagon Alley, but in times like this, she wished that he was here for her to cuddle.

"I'm sorry, love. I know it must be hard without him, but you'll be with your parents soon and I think you'll find that will make you feel much better!"

Hermione smiled and nodded, pushing herself up from the table.

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley, you're right. Excuse me, I'm going to go change into something a little more presentable for my parents. I haven't seen them since Christmas, and I doubt they'd approve of me showing up in grubby jeans and my robes."

Mrs. Weasley beamed at her and pushed a biscuit into her hand.

"Of course, dear, of course. You go do what you need, I'll send Severus up when he returns."

As Hermione made her way back up to her room, she shrugged off the heavy robes she was wearing. It was rather cold in Headquarters, and her usual outfit of blue jeans and a jumper weren't keeping her warm enough. She studied herself in the mirror, analyzing her image. Her hair, while still a bit bushy, had tamed over the years. She had let it grow longer, and the weight of it drew the frizzy locks into looser curls. Her face was pretty enough, but rather plain without any makeup applied to it. Her body, which had always been frustratingly thin as a child, had finally matured into a woman's body, complete with curves and even a few battle scars. Her hand floated up to her breastbone, where Dolohov's curse laid beneath the jumper. Whatever she chose to wear, she must make sure that it covered the horrendous scar. If her parents were to see it, their reaction would make this entire ordeal far more difficult. She shook her head and turned to her wardrobe, pulling clothes aside methodically. What did one wear to tell one's parents that they are in grave danger? Hermione didn't know, but she decided that black trousers and a grey blouse were appropriate. She slid them on quickly and sat down at her vanity, looking at the makeup that she owned but rarely used. A swipe of mascara here, a touch of blush there, and she pronounced herself finished. She never was one for much make up – it made her face feel heavy and was rather uncomfortable. After sliding her boots on and running a comb through her hair, she reached for the black pea coat her mother had given her for Christmas and wandered down the stairs. Surprise filled her as she nearly ran into a very tall, dark figure.

"Miss Granger," Professor Snape drawled, "You seem to be ready early. I told Molly that I wouldn't arrive for another half hour."

Hermione gulped and forced herself to meet his gaze, refusing to be intimidated. "I wanted to be ready to go as soon as possible, in case you returned early. Thank you for escorting me, sir. Will you be ready to leave soon?"

"We can leave now. The sooner we're back, the better. I assume you are familiar with Side-Along Apparition? I do not know where your parents reside."

"Yes, sir. If you would," her voice faltered and grew small, "take my arm, sir?"

Snape let out a sigh and rested the tips of his fingers on Hermione's proffered forearm, seemingly creating as little contact as possible. Hermione closed her eyes, concentrated on an alley near her home, and turned on the spot.

Once her head had stopped spinning, Hermione gingerly opened her eyes and prayed that she gotten it right. Relief flooded her as she saw the familiar brick alley – they were only a block away from her house.

"You live in an alley, Miss Granger? My, my, I did not know you were from such… _humble_ means."

Hermione returned Snape's sneer with a sneer of her own.

"Actually, Professor, I thought it might not be appropriate to appear out of thin air on my doorstep – my home is only a block away. Shall we?"

"Lead the way," he grumbled.

Walking down her childhood street proved to be an extremely sentimental experience for Hermione. She was surprised at how much it affected her, how much she had missed this quiet neighborhood. Memories of riding her bike down this lane and walking home from primary school filled her head, and she became more and more excited to see her parents. While her heart truly belonged in the magical world, a part of her would always be muggle. She quickened her pace as her home came into view. The car was parked in the driveway and she could tell that the lights were on behind the curtains.

"Excellent," she said as they turned onto the small path that led to her front door. "They're home." She rapped briskly on the door and waited for a moment, but there was no answer. Snape raised an eyebrow at her, but she just smiled and shook her head as she fished for a keychain from her coat pocket.

"They're in the library upstairs. They never hear people at the door when they're up there, I've been bothering them to get a doorbell for years. Would you mind if I went in first, Professor? I think this might go over easier if I can break it to them slowly, without a stranger in the room."

Snape nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, that is agreeable. Come and get me if your parents need a more detailed explanation of the situation, or perhaps a confundus charm."

Hermione chuckled at that and let herself into her old home, closing the door gently behind her.

"Mum? Dad? It's me!"

She stood by the staircase and looked up, expecting to see her parents rush at the sound of her voice, but there was nothing. Her brow furrowed slightly as she walked slowly up the stairs.

"Mum, Dad? Are you home?"

Again, there was no answer. Hermione chuckled to herself as she reached the door to the library and pushed it open.

"Did you guys go next door to Mrs. Hendersen's for coffee? You always leave the lights on when you do, you know. It's such a waste of electrici-"

Hermione froze in place as an icy wave of shock washed over her. The room, which her parents always kept immaculate, was completely torn apart. Books littered the floor, their pages ripped from their spines, and were drenched in puddles of a dark red liquid. She felt her feet move her body forward, but it was as if she was watching herself on a TV screen, for she was no longer inside her own body. In the corner of the room was a very large lump covered with a blanket, and even though every fiber of Hermione's being was screaming at her to turn around and run, run far away, she walked closer and closer until she grabbed the blanket and pulled it away.

A scream left her lungs with such force that she thought her throat would begin to bleed, and Hermione dropped to her knees in anguish. Two bodies, the bodies of her parents, the amazing people that had raised her and loved her and cared for her at every step of her life, were holding each other in what looked to be a last embrace. Their corpses were mangled, with legs bending the wrong way and blood, so much blood, more blood than Hermione had ever seen. She threw herself on her parents, searching for a scrap of warmth to show her that there was a chance, that maybe they were still alive, but they were as cold as ice. So, not knowing what else to do, she did the only thing she could. She took her parent's hands in her own and sobbed, sobbed harder than she ever had before. Vaguely, she heard footsteps come up behind her, but she didn't turn around. Whether they were Death Eaters of Professor Snape, she didn't care. They could kill her now – everything she was fighting to protect was gone.

"Miss Granger? I heard a scream, are you alright? Oh…oh, Merlin. Shit."

Professor Snape crossed the room quickly and wrapped his hand around Hermione's upper arm, pulling her roughly to her feet. She made a halfhearted attempt to reach for her parents, but he spun her around and pulled her away from the sight.

"Hush, girl. This could be a trap – we need to leave immediately."

With one last glance at the poor mutilated muggles, Professor Snape pulled Hermione into his arms and turned, focusing on the potions lab at Grimmauld Place. As soon as he opened his eyes, he pushed Hermione onto a stool and walked over to the shelf where he kept his personal stores. A calming draught, some Dreamless Sleep, and a general sleeping daught. The girl needed rest, and soon. Already, he could see her eyes glazing over and her skin growing pale, the early signs of shock settling in. He approached her and shoved each potion into her hand one at a time, and she gulped them back without any argument. Snape couldn't help but admire her determination – even in a state of shock, she realized what needed to be done and followed through. After she had swallowed all three potions, she turned her wide eyes to the Professor, the tears streaming down her cheeks in steady rivers.

"Why?" She choked. "Why? Why? Why?" She threw herself against Professor Snape and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing the air from his lungs. He could feel her tears soaking through his travelling cloak and had a right mind to push her away, but decided against it. Instead, he did something that he had not done for twenty years. He wrapped his arms around the young woman and rocked her gently in his arms, whispering words of comfort into her curls as she continued her chanting against his chest.

"Why? Why? Why?"

_A/N: Please review!_


	5. Denial

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything. _

_A/N: I'm sorry it's been so long since updates! I'm in the process of moving and it's been crazy. Anywho, here's the chapter! Hope you like it! _

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><p>"Most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it."<br>― George R.R. Martin, _A Game of Thrones_

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><p><em>"Why? Why? Why?" <em>

Snape looked down at the girl in his arms and was relieved to find that she had finally fallen asleep. He picked her up in his arms and carried her to the empty table and laid her down as gently as possible. Stepping back, he observed his former student. Even in sleep, the agony of her loss was clearly etched upon her face. He breathing, while deep and slow, stuttered every few minutes. Her eyelids were swollen and slightly red, and her skin was paler than he had ever seen it – even paler than his own. She shivered in her sleep and he frowned at that. In one swift movement, he removed his cloak from his own shoulders and draped it over Miss Granger's sleeping form. He watched her for a few more minutes before turning around and summoning his patronus.

"Molly," he whispered. "I'm back. They got to Miss Granger's parents before we could get there. Miss Granger is unharmed, but in shock. She's sleeping down here right now, I made her took some dreamless sleep."

With a flick of his wand, the silvery doe pranced out of the room and up the stairs. Snape let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding and collapsed into one of the armchairs by the fireplace. He leaned forward and held his head in his hands, his mind reeling. What. The. Hell. At the last meeting, The Dark Lord had made it clear that he would start going after more muggleborn families, but _hers_? To murder the family of one of the Golden Trio? The Gryffindor Princess? Surely that was a plan that he would have announced. The Dark Lord was vain, proud. Extreme wards of protection had been placed on the Granger family. If The Dark Lord had found a way to get past these wards, he would have been sure to gloat about it. Unless…

Snape's head snapped up in realization. This was a test. The Dark Lord was always slightly suspicious about Snape's true loyalties, and found ways to test him periodically. Usually they involved large amounts of physical torture or asking him to kill muggles, but this, this was smart. Unusually smart. It was obvious, now that Snape had time to think about it. Kill someone's family, and they'll latch onto the closest person available. Kill Hermione Granger's family, and she'll replace that family with whoever she spends the most time with. In this case, Severus Snape.

Suddenly, his heart dropped to his stomach. If he had not told the Dark Lord that he had allowed the girl into his lab, if he had not told him that Potter and Weasley were off with Albus, then the girl's family would still be alive. The blood of Jean and Wendell Granger was on his hands. He glanced over at Miss Granger's sleeping form and saw that she had curled up under his cloak and was still fast asleep. What would she say if she knew? Would she forgive him? Kill him? Run away?

Quick footsteps broke Snape away from his thoughts as he stood to open the door for Molly Weasley. She bustled in quietly, tea tray in hand.

"Merlin, Severus. Are you two all right?" She whispered, setting the tray down on the small table between the armchairs.

Snape nodded and helped himself to a cup of tea.

"We're uninjured. Miss Granger entered the house alone in hopes of easing her parents into the idea of evacuating. She discovered their bodies. I entered moments later when I heard her scream and apparated us out of there. I gave her a few potions to help her rest. She was fairly distraught, as you would expect. I'm hoping to let her sleep for another eight hours. The grief will be easier to handle if she's well rested."

Molly nodded tearfully and turned to look at Miss Granger. A tear found its way down her cheek and dripped onto her sweater.

"Severus," she whispered, "What. Happened?"

Snape sighed and relaxed into his chair, letting his head fall back.

"I don't know, Molly, I honestly don't. At the last meeting, there was talk of more murders in general, but I never would have thought…this. This was completely out of left field. The more I think about it, the more I think this was an impulse decision. I wonder if Albus has had any success yet."

Molly focused on the teacup in her hands and remained silent. Snape furrowed his brow at his behavior and leaned towards her.

"Molly. Have you heard anything from Albus?"

She sniffed and swiped at her eyes before meeting Severus's.

"Yes." She braced her fist against her mouth to hold back a sob. "Just this morning – he said that they found something important that would make You-Know-Who angry and told me to put up another set of wards. I just…I can't help but wonder if Hermione's parents…well, if they got the receiving end of You-Know-Who's anger."

Snape's jaw dropped and he buried his head in his hands once again, groaning quietly.

"Severus?"

"Oh, Merlin. Molly, I daresay I think you're right. Damnit, Albus!"

"Severus, I'm so sorry…" Molly choked. "If I had told you sooner, maybe…"

Snape held up a hand to stop Molly's apology.

"No, Molly, please. None of this was your fault. If anything, it's Albus's. You-Know-Who only became angry because Albus destroyed one of his…possessions. If Albus had waited to destroy it until after he had confirmation that Miss Granger's family was safe, we might have avoided this fiasco. Nevertheless, what's done is done. Now we must focus on Miss Granger's recovery. Can I entrust you with owling Albus and telling him what has happened?"

Molly nodded and placed her teacup back onto the tray.

"Yes, yes, of course. I'll do that straightaway. You, on the other hand, need to get some sleep. Since you were there with her when you brought her here, I think it's best that you be here when she wakes up. You'll need all the strength you can get. The poor girl will be wrought with grief."

A small smile tugged at Snape's mouth. He may not like most of the Weasleys, but Molly Weasley held a soft spot in his heart.

"Of course, Molly. Thank you. I'll call for you once she's woken up."

He walked Molly to the door and shut it behind her, giving her one last sad smile. When he heard her footsteps ascending once again up the stairs, he grabbed an old blanket from a cabinet and settled back into his chair, falling into an uneasy sleep.

Ooo000ooo

The first thing Hermione registered as she woke up was that she was pleasantly warm. She curled into the warm blanket and let the comforting scent fill her nose. Sandalwood, herbs, and something that was pleasantly familiar but she couldn't quite place. She opened her eyes and sat up slowly, feeling the strange blanket she was wrapped in.

_This isn't a blanket…this is a cloak! But who….oh._

Several feet away, Professor Snape was sleeping in his chair, snoring softly. Hermione gently pushed herself off of the lab table, but the minute her feet hit the ground, Professor Snape shot straight up.

"Oh! Erm, hello," she greeted sheepishly.

Snape closed the distance between them quickly, rolling the kinks out of his neck.

"Miss Granger. How…how are you feeling, this morning?"

Hermione stretched in response, fighting back a yawn.

"I slept like the dead – but I did have the strangest, most awful dream. You were there, and my parents were there, and… whatever are you looking at me like that for?"

Hermione looked up into Snape's eyes and saw them like she had never seen them before. They were round and open and sad and…pitying.

"Miss Granger," he said softly, "I gave you Dreamless Sleep last night. I'm afraid that you didn't have a nightmare…that was reality."

"No," she whispered, stepping back from him. "No, no, it's not possible! That's why we went there in the first place! To make sure nothing bad happened to them!"

"Miss Granger," he said again, stepping closer, "I am so truly sorry for your loss."

"NO!" She roared, "No! It's not…It's…I…"

Once more, Snape found himself with an armful of Hermione Granger. She was sobbing furiously and beating her fists against his chest, but instinct told him to wrap his arms around her and pull her closer. His chin rested in her bushy curls and his hand rubbed smooth circles between her shoulder blades as she grew calmer and calmer. Finally, she lifted her head up and asked the one question he wished she wouldn't.

"Why?"

Snape closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.

"Because, Miss Granger, you are a threat."

"Oh please," she murmured, hiding her face against his shoulder. "I'm just the girl of the group. They know I couldn't hurt a fly."

"You may not be violent, Miss Granger, but you are dangerous for other reasons. You are smart, the brightest witch of your age. You've saved Potter and Weasley more times than any of us would like to count, and had they listened to you more, I daresay you all would have a few less scars. You are powerful, too, more powerful than many pureblood witches and wizards who attend Hogwarts. And most of all, you are a muggleborn. Your very existence is a threat to the philosophies that The Dark Lord holds so dear, and therefore, he has decided you must be destroyed."

Hermione was quiet for several moments before she started to laugh against his cloak.

"Something funny, Miss Granger?"

She pulled away from him and straightened her own clothes, wiping stray tears from her eyes.

"I am devastated at the loss of my parents, sir. I can honestly say that I have never felt a greater pain than this, and yet…I find myself…flattered."

Snape smirked at her and let out a small chuckle of his own.

"Yes, yes I suppose that is a compliment of sorts." His demeanor suddenly turned serious. "However, one would hope that he could compliment you without resorting to such violent ways of communication."

Hermione sobered as well and nodded sadly.

"This is all so surreal. I…I keep thinking in my head that this is all just a bad dream, but…it's really happened, hasn't it?"

"Yes, Miss Granger. A common side effect of such trauma can be denial. It will take you quite some time to recover."

"Have you lost a parent, sir?"

Snape pursed his lips as he looked down at her.

"Both," he replied curtly.

"Does that pain ever go away?" She whispered.

Snape gently put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"No," he replied honestly, "but you find other things to focus on. It dulls until you no longer notice it, but it never truly leaves you."

Hermione looked down at her shoes for a few more moments.

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

Snape cringed as he heard her voice break at the word 'nice'. It made his own mind reel – why was he being so kind to the girl? As the shock wore off, surely she would come to blame him in the next few days. She certainly wouldn't be kind to him if she decided to accuse him of killing her parents. And yet, something about seeing her so small and fragile had awakened some protective streak in him. He saw his own reaction to his parent's deaths in her, and he wanted to care for her in the way that he wished someone had cared for him.

"Because you deserve it, Miss Granger. You work very hard for very little credit. And, Gryffindor or not, no one should ever have to lose their family in such a despicable way. Now, you should upstairs so Molly can feed you. That woman claims to fix any ailment with a home cooked meal."

Hermione trudged slowly up the stairs, hugging Snape's cloak close to her as she did so. When she reached the top of the stairs, his voice calling for her made her turn around.

"Oh, and Miss Granger? If Potter and Weasley ever find out that you said I was "nice", I shall make you regret it."

Hermione smirked against the dark fabric of the cloak and walked into the kitchen with a heavy heart and a full stomach, hoping to rectify both.

_A/N: I hope you liked it! Next time, more of Snape's past! Angst! Anger! Drama! _

_Please Review! :)_


	6. Anger

_A/N: HEY GUYS! Thanks so much for telling me about the formatting issue! Hope this fixed it! _

_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

Chapter 6 – Anger

The next few days passed by in a blur to Hermione. Snape had excused her from her faux apprenticeship, and had instead placed her entirely in Molly Weasley's care. Hermione had had her stomach filled with more tea and biscuits than she had ever had in her life, and yet, she still felt strangely empty. Hollow. She wished that Mrs. Weasley would understand that she longed for answer and explanations, rather than good food and drink. So, one week after the tragedy, when Professor Snape was out running errands, Hermione walked herself down into the kitchen and sat down to confront the Weasley matriarch.

"Hermione! I'm sorry dear, I didn't see you there!" Molly turned away from the stove and wiped her hands off with a dish towel. "Can I get you anything? This soup will be ready in time for dinner, but we still have biscuits in the pantry."

"No, thank you, Mrs. Weasley."

"Molly, please, dear." Molly smiled warmly as she took in Hermione's appearance. She fought to keep the smile on her face, because just looking at the poor girl made her heart break. While Hermione had never been interested in fashion or makeup, she had always at least made sure that she looked presentable and clean. Now, her face was red and splotchy from frequent crying, and her hair looked like she hadn't showered since before the incident. Her clothes were wrinkled and grubby, and Molly had the sneaking suspicion that she was napping in her clothes. Hermione tried her best to smile back at the woman, but she knew that it was a broken smile at most.

"I was wondering, Molly, if we could actually talk instead."

Molly agreed readily and sat down opposite Hermione at the table, smoothing her

"Yes, dear, of course? What would you like to talk about?"

"I want to know what happened." She stated bluntly. Molly startled at this slightly and began to fidget with her fingers.

"Hermione, dear, you know what happened. It was a standard Death Eater raid-"

"No, Molly, it wasn't." She interrupted. "You've been skirting around the subject and hiding from it. I know there's something you're not telling me, and I hate to sound rude, but I want to know what it is."

Molly sniffed loudly and pulled out a large handkerchief, dabbing at her eyes.

"Oh, darling, you'll have to forgive an old woman's guilt! I'm so sorry, my dear! I can't help but wonder if I had told you of Albus' s news sooner, or perhaps if I asked Severus to take you sooner, then maybe..."

"Then maybe nothing would have changed." A deep voice drawled from the door. Molly and Hermione both looked at Snape with surprise - he was not due to be back for quite some time. He leaned lazily against the door and crossed his arms over his chest.

"We've had this conversation before, Molly. It wasn't your fault. You told me as soon as you could, Miss Granger and I even left earlier than expected. We were, regrettably, taken by surprise."

"Surprise?" Hermione hissed. "Surprise? You're the bloody spy! You knew! You knew!"

Fear briefly crossed Snape's face, but was soon replaced with indifference.

"Calm down , Miss Granger. I won't insult you by denying anything. Yes, I am the spy. And yes, I knew that there were going to be more attacks on muggleborn families. However, I had no idea that your family was a target. I believe that the death of your parents was an...impulse...reaction."

"An impulse reaction?!" Hermione screeched, jumping up from her seat. "That is the explanation you give me? My parents are dead! The only family I have left is dead! What kind of goddamn spy are you that couldn't protect two muggles!"

Snape uncrossed his arms and moved to sneer down at Hermione.

"You have brains, Miss Granger? Use them. What do you think prompted such an impulsive reaction?"

Hermione's eyes bored into his own, hard an unyielding, before softening.

"He was angry...very angry, wasn't he? Attacking my family would cause a lot of trouble, so something must have really bothered him...were the boys successful?"

"Yes, Miss Granger, they were."

A smile danced across Hermione's face, a real smile, before she crumpled once more into the Potion's Master's arms. He grimaced at the sudden contact, but gently put his arms around her nonetheless. Her sobs ceased quickly and she pulled away, swiping at

"I find myself conflicted", she chuckled.

"No one would dare judge you for such feelings, Miss Granger. Now, if you're quite done soaking yet another one of my shirts, I have work to do."

Hermione smiled sadly to herself as Snape disappeared down the stairs and tactfully excused herself from the kitchen, climbing the stairs to her own room. She sat down on her bed and willed her mind to quiet. She knew that she should be happy that Harry and Ron had destroyed a horcrux, but something didn't sit right in her heart. As she and her friends had grown up, they knew the consequences of this war. Families and friends would be lost, it was a fact of life. And yet, it always seemed to happen to someone else. She had always feared for her parent's safety, but she could have never had lead herself to believe that they would actually been killed. It forced her to think, how many more innocent deaths we're indirectly her fault? How many families were needlessly ripped apart? She knew that winning this war was of the utmost importance, but if it meant losing the very people you were fighting to protect, what was the point?

With an exasperated sigh, Hermione stood up from the bed and opened up Ron's trunk, searching for something she knew he hid there. "For a rainy day," he had told her.

"Aha!" She exclaimed, pulling out the whiskey and three shot glasses. "This should take my mind off things," she muttered, sitting down at the desk.

"Severus! Dinner!"

Snape looked up from the book he was reading and scowled at the kitchen. Molly was only ten years older than him, and yet, she treated him as if he was one of her ginger haired spawn. He had a right mind to tell the woman to stop coddling him, but the large growl that had just emanated from his stomach made him reconsider. He may not like her constant attention, but pride be damned, he did love her food. So, with a sigh, he put down his book and stalked into the kitchen, surprised to see that Miss Granger was not there as well.

"Severus! Excellent. Would you fetch Hermione from her room for me, please? I'd go up there myself, but," she gestured wildly to the mess of pots and pans before her. Snape grunted in response and walked up the narrow staircase to Miss Granger's room. He started to grimace when his senses were assaulted with the sound of loud music and the stench of booze drifting out from behind her door. He rapped thrice and announced himself, but there was no answer. Pushing the door open, he let himself inside, and was shocked at the sight before him.

The room was completely destroyed. The curtains were ripped into shreds and laying in a heap on the ground, the glass window was shattered, several chairs were broken and a dusting of feathers from the torn pillows covered the room. In the middle of the bed sat Hermione Granger, balancing a half-empty bottle of whiskey and three shot glasses upon a textbook.

"Miss Granger! What is the meaning of this?" Snape shouted over the heavy rock music that filled the room. Hermione lifted her head but it lolled around slightly, and she couldn't seem to focus on him.

"Miss Granger!" He repeated, louder this time. With an irritated huff, he silenced the loud music with a flick of his wand. Her head snapped to attention at the loss of the music and she glared at him.

"Now that I have your attention, would you care to explain exactly what's going on?"

"'S a wake, Per-fesser." She mumbled, pointing to the three shot glasses. "'S was 'pposed to be for me, an' Harry, an' Ron, but look… one for me, one for mum, an' one for dad." She swung her legs over to the side of the bed and stood up shakily, swaying in place. She took a few steps towards the Professor, but stumbled, falling into a heap on the ground.

Snape rolled his eyes and marched over to her, wrapping a hand around her upper arm and depositing her back on the bed. Fishing into his robes, his hands found a small flask he kept with him at all times and thrust it into Hermione's hands.

"Sober Up Potion. Drink it. Now. Two gulps will do."

Hermione complied, grimacing at the taste of the potion. It's effects, however, began immediately. The pleasant buzzing that had previously filled her head was disappearing, and the sickening feeling of dread that she had been trying to forget was taking its place. She handed the flask back to Professor Snape and folded her hands in her lap.

"Now. Would you like to explain just what you were thinking?"

Hermione mumbled something under her breath, too softly for Snape to hear.

"Speak up, girl!"

"I said, _what's the point_?"

Snape shook his head in confusion.

"What on earth do you mean, 'what's the point'?"

"I mean," Hermione continued, fiddling with the bottle of whiskey, "what's the point? You-know-who is out to kill muggleborns and muggles. We're fighting to protect them, but we're failing miserably. Sure, we've destroyed one horcrux. There's five left, though. Not to mention killing You-Know-Who himself. And in the meantime, people are dying all around us." Her voice began to break and grow shaky. "I have no siblings, Professor. My parents were both only children, and my grandparents passed on a few years ago. My parents were the only family I had left, and now they're gone. The very thing I've been fighting to protect has been ripped away from me, so I want to know, what's the point of continuing this fight? Even if we win, which seems like a pipe dream right now, what's there for me on the other side of this war? Nothing. Loneliness. What. Is. The. Point?"

Since all the chairs in the room were currently destroyed, Snape instead took to leaning against the small desk.

"It's important to fight, Miss Granger, because the freedom of the Wizarding world depends on our victory."

"Our victory? Our? That's easy for you to say, you're a spy! You carry the Dark Mark! If You-Know-Who wins, you can just saunter over to him like nothing ever happened and live your life in peace! Why should I believe anything you say?"

The minute Hermione had finished speaking, she instantly regretted her words. Snape's face grew tight and pale with what looked like barely controlled fury, and his hands gripped the edge of the desk until his knuckles turned white.

"Do you know why I joined the Death Eaters, Miss Granger?" His voice was low and dangerous. When Hermione shook her head in the negative, he continued. "I grew up in an abusive household. My mother was a timid pureblood and my father was an alcoholic muggle. He beat my mother on a daily basis, and myself on a weekly basis. He despised magic in all its forms, and forbid us to use it in the house. Eventually, my mother's bumps and bruises turned to broken bones and concussions. My sixth year, I returned home to find that my mother had died while I was away at school. The official report was that she had fallen down a flight of stairs, but everyone knew what had really happened. When I graduated Hogwarts, my friends from school introduced me to the Dark Lord. Back then, he was a young, handsome, charismatic man. We ended up talking and when I told him my home life, he was sympathetic and helpful. He too had come from an unhappy home, and instead of judging me or looking down on my family, he treated me like an equal. He offered me exactly what I wanted – to teach me the kind of spells and curses that would make my father regret every blow he had ever landed on us. I joined the Death Eaters that night. It was a rash decision made in an emotional time for me, and I have regretted it every day since. The things you learn among the Death Eaters don't bring you power, it takes power from you."

"So, you mean to say, you are on our side?" She worried her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Was there ever any doubt?"

"No, well…it's just, there have been some times over the years where things have been a little…fishy."

Snape sighed and let his head fall back, exposing his throat. Hermione noted absently how pale his skin was – it nearly blended in with the white collar of his oxford.

"Have no doubt, Miss Granger. The happiest day of my life will be the day the Dark Lord's head rests upon a spike and this infernal mark is removed from my skin." He pushed himself away from the desk and straightened his robes. As he made to leave the room, he looked once more behind his shoulder.

"Don't despair, Miss Granger," he said. "War creates orphans, there is no avoiding that. Many more loved ones will be lost in the coming months, and the sooner you come to terms with that, the better. When this is all over, when we win, there will be hundreds of people who feel entirely alone, you and I included. But if we're all alone, we're all together in that, too."

_A/N: I hope you like it! Next time, Hermione makes a startling realization! A letter from the boys! And...baking? Stay tuned!_


	7. Realizations

_Disclaimer: I own nothing. _

_A/N: To make up for yesterday's formatting blunder, here's another chapter! Please review!_

**Chapter Seven**

_Miss Granger, _

_First and foremost, please accept my most sincere condolences over the tragic loss of your parents. There are no words to adequately express just how sorry I am. Rest assured that their deaths will not be in vain, and that you have the full support and sympathy of the Order of the Phoenix. _

_I take full responsibility for this tragedy. I feel that it is only fair to explain the mistakes that led to your parent's deaths. We found what we were looking for, in a remote location that I prefer not to expose via owl. The plan, as you know, was to destroy what we found as discreetly as possible. This, Miss Granger, is where we failed. We cast several protection and discretion charms before destroying this object, in the hopes that its owner would not find out what we had done. It was not enough. Severus has informed me that you know he is our spy, and I have informed Harry and Ronald. However, there is another. For their personal safety, they will remain unknown, but our informant at the Dark Lord's headquarters informed me of your parent's deaths immediately after they happened. Apparently, he was able to feel the destruction of this object as it took place. He then launched into a murderous rage, and, well, you know the rest of the story from there. I am so unbelievably sorry, my dear. If I had known such a thing were to happen, I would have never acted so recklessly. We will try to be more discreet with the upcoming objects, but unfortunately, our methods will remain relatively the same. _

_I hope that you will also forgive how late this letter is. By my calculations, this should reach you about mid-July. We are quite far from you right now, and it should take several owls to deliver this message. Which leads me to the next piece of information I must share with you. Unfortunately, you will not be able to return to Hogwarts this term. Hogwarts is extremely protected, but even still, we have much to accomplish and will most likely anger the Dark Lord many more times before any final battle. I am not willing to risk your safety, and would prefer if you remained in Grimmauld Place. _

_Do not write any replies, for this owl does not know our location and it is impossible to locate us. Again, I offer my deepest condolences and hope that you may find some source of light in these dark times. _

_Regards, _

_Albus Dumbledore _

The light from the fire flickered against the worn piece of parchment, throwing shadows against the words. Hermione read the letter for the fourth time, but it was no use. She already had it committed to memory. She began to methodically tear the parchment into shreds, letting the torn pieces pile into her lap. By the time Snape walked in, she was delicately tossing each individual piece into the fire.

"Ah. The Headmaster owled you too, then?"

"Yes," she replied tersely. "I've been forbidden from going back to Hogwarts."

"As have I."

Hermione's head snapped over to where Snape was standing. He was in his usual pose – arms crossed over his chest, back leaning against the door frame.

"What? But you're a teacher – why would he have you stay here?"

Snape crossed the room and sat in an armchair opposite Hermione, crossing his legs.

"To protect you, probably. The rest of the Order will come and go as the summer comes to an end, so you and I will keep working here. What else did Albus say?"

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"He said…well…It's just that…ugh!" She threw her hands into the air and leapt out of her chair as she began to pace around the room. "First of all, it's been weeks since mum and dad died! It's nearly August. How has it taken him this long to say anything? And why didn't Harry or Ron send anything? Secondly…I just can't believe him. Destroying one horcrux lead to the death of my family. There are four left. What on earth is he thinking? Has he even considered what he's risking? I wish he would think of a different plan!"

"I think you'll find that the Headmaster knows exactly what he's risking." Snape's voice sounded flat and lifeless, but there was barely contained rage just under the surface. "We are at war, Miss Granger, and our beloved Headmaster follows a very Machiavellian philosophy. The end justifies the means. It's time you put this idea of a twinkling old man to rest. Albus Dumbledore is a military man, and he will do whatever it takes to win this war."

That was enough to make Hermione fall back into her chair. A stray curl fell across her face, and she blew it away. Snape continued absentmindedly.

"Besides, I'm sure Albus hasn't even told Potter or Weasley of what happened."

"What? Why wouldn't he?"

"He needs them at their best, Miss Granger. Why would he weigh them down with such information? There's nothing they can do about it. Especially Potter. He does have a knack for sulking."

Not even Hermione could argue with that. Though she despised the thought of the Headmaster withholding such information, she couldn't help but see the common sense behind it. So, with one least exasperated noise, she retreated to the kitchen for some biscuits and tea.

* * *

><p>Hermione wasn't exactly sure when it happened. At first she tried to deny it, but as the weeks went by, it became more and more obvious.<p>

She was attracted to Professor Snape.

It all started in the potions lab. Due to her lack of experience, much of her time was spent watching Snape demonstrate techniques and procedures. During this time, Hermione started to see things in her professor that she had never noticed before. His skin was surprisingly clear and unwrinkled for a man nearing forty. His hair was not greasy, as many believed, but rather very fine and shiny. His nose was abhorrent and his teeth were definitely on the crooked side, but for the most part he had a rather handsome face.

It was his stature, however, that made the biggest impression on Hermione. He had gained weight over the summer, so instead of looking sickly thin all the time, he actually filled out the billowing robes he so often wore. In the heat of the potions lab, he often forwent the heavy robes and instead worked in black slacks, a white shirt, and a black or silver waistcoat. This outfit was always Hermione's favorite – it made him look tall, lean, and positively dangerous. On rare occasions, he would even take to tying his hair back with a piece of ribbon, which Hermione thought made his face even more handsome.

His mannerisms also captured Hermione's attention. Everything he did, he did with the grace and confidence of a king. His movements were quick and precise, and he kept his sentences short and to the point. There was a certain mystery about him that drew Hermione in, despite her constantly trying to talk herself out of this attraction.

_He's a teacher!_ She would tell herself. _He's nearly twenty years older than I am! And besides, he would never look at me in such a way. I'm wasting my time, and my emotions. This is all probably some symptom of post-traumatic stress – nothing more! _

And yet, every time she tried to change the way she felt, she failed. Her heart would begin to race whenever he entered the room, and she savored each word he said, his voice wrapping around her like dark silk. She tried to distract herself with books and research, but it was never enough. When they were in the same room together, she was unable to focus on anything else. It was for this reason that she found herself dropping a bowl full of flour on the ground when he walked into the kitchen one morning.

"Damn!" She swore, frowning at the flour which now covered most of her and the kitchen. Snape actually chuckled at that, and she shot him a glare in return. He rolled his eyes before flicking his wand in her direction, vanishing the flour.

"What are you doing?"

"I was _trying_," she said while measuring out new flour, "to bake a cake. But someone had to startle me, so now I'm beginning again."

"Why on earth would you bake a cake?"

Hermione suddenly felt very shy as she moved a stray curl out of her face.

"Because it's my birthday today," she explained softly. Snape made no comment at that, but instead began to pour himself a cup of tea.

"And tell me, Miss Granger, is it a muggle custom to prepare one's own birthday cake?"

"No, but Molly is spending this week at the Burrow. I think being here all the time puts too much stress on her, and she desperately deserved a vacation."

"I'd hardly call the Burrow a vacation spot."

"Yes, well, it's a far cry better than here."

"Getting cabin fever already? I shouldn't have to remind you that you'll probably be here for at least another year."

Hermione groaned and threw her head back.

"Don't remind me – would you grab the milk from the fridge?"

Snape complied and handed the carton over to her. Her heart leaped when their fingers touched briefly – his skin was warm and smooth. How strange! She had always imagined his skin to be as cold as ice, like some marble statue. He leaned over her shoulder and observed the mixing bowl.

"Tell me, is there much difference between brewing and baking?"

A laugh escaped Hermione's lips. "Not much, to be honest. One could argue that baking requires a certain type of magic. Even if you follow the instructions perfectly, it may not turn out. It needs a little extra something to make it perfect."

"And what, pray tell, is that?"

Hermione turned around and was startled by just how close Snape was. If she were to move her hand forward two inches, she would be able to feel the fabric of his waistcoat. She looked up into his eyes and found that those dark pools of coal were gazing down into her own with a curious expression. His face was not pulled into a sneer or a frown, but a genuine expression of interest. If she were to push herself up on her tiptoes, she could capture his lips with her own. She found herself leaning forward slightly, her heart racing.

"Love," she breathed. Snape's brow furrowed and he stepped back slightly. Hermione busied herself with wiping her hands on a towel. "Well, that's what mum used to say at least. I like to think it's just plain old luck."

"Indeed," he murmured. Snape stalked out of the kitchen without any kind of goodbye, leaving Hermione breathless by the oven.

_Oh no,_ she thought, _what have I gotten myself into? _

_A/N: Hope you liked it! Please review! Next time: Snape's feelings! Hermione's birthday night! Someone will get hurt! Stay tuned!_


	8. Distraction

_Disclaimer: I own nothing. _

_A/N: Hello! This chapter is rather short, but I needed to get it out of my system. I promise that the next chapter will be at least twice as long, with lots of lovely things and emotional musings and a few surprises! Please review! _

**Chapter 8**

He wasn't entirely sure when it all started.

Perhaps it was the night her parents were killed. As he held her sobbing form in his arms, something deep inside him had awakened, a primal need to protect. At first he brushed it off as just that – a surplus of adrenaline mixed with hormones, nothing more. But slowly but surely, the same thoughts and feelings would return. He found himself studying Miss Granger constantly. He knew that when she disagreed with something she was reading, she would pull her bottom lip between her teeth and furrow her eyebrows. She always trailed one hand gracefully along the banister when ascending or descending the stairs. Occasionally she would hum when she worked, and she would pop her knuckles when she was tired – always starting with those on her left hand. When the lab got too hot, she would twist her hair up and away from her neck, securing it with elastic, or sometimes her own wand. And that curl. There was one damned curl that always seemed to fall in front of her face, and it taunted Severus. He felt his fingers yearning to brush it away, to tuck it gently behind her ear.

"Shit!" He yelled, throwing the contents of the ruined potion into the fireplace. He brought the dirty cauldron to the sink and began to scrub it, cursing his wandering mind. The potion he was working on wasn't horribly complex, and so his thoughts were mostly filled with Miss Granger. However, it was extremely volatile, and he couldn't afford such carelessness. So, he did what he always did when he began to think of these new feelings. He talked himself out of them.

_First of all, she's far too young. Wizarding customs be damned, twenty years is a considerable gap. Barely an adult – It would be a heinous crime to saddle her down with an old man like me. Secondly, she's my student. One of my least favorite students, at that. And a Gryffindor. Everything I've despised. Thirdly, I have a job to do. I'm a damned good spy because I have no weak spots, and getting involved with Miss Granger would be dangerous for the both of us._

The heat in the room was unbearable. He should have finished this potion hours ago, but because he had to keep redoing the potion, the burners had been on for hours. Severus quickly unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged out of it. Miss Granger had already said goodnight to him, so there was no chance of her walking in on him. He, of course, knew that Miss Granger was interested in him. She had been watching him too, out of the corner of her eye. And that stunt she pulled in the kitchen a few minutes ago? If he had just leaned in a tad bit further, their lips would have met. He convinced himself that he only stood that close to confirm her feelings for him, but if he was honest with himself, there was just something magnetic about her. Maybe it was her supreme intelligence, or the way she handled her parent's tragedy with such maturity, but something about her kept drawing him in.

"Damn and blast!" He muttered under his breath. He was thinking about her again, and nearly added the wrong ingredient. If that had fallen into the cauldron, it would have caused an explosion that would have thrown him into the wall. No matter, no harm had been done. He closed his fist over the cauldron and reached with his other hand for the container he needed.

Suddenly, the door burst open, revealing Miss Granger carrying a rather large slice of cake.

"Professor! I know I already said good night, and it's getting rather late, but I you might have a bite of this before the day's out, and…what are you doing?"

"Miss Granger." Severus whispered. Before he could stop himself, his hand over the cauldron opened and dropped the ingredient into the bubbling liquid. The next thing he knew, there was a bright light, a flash of heat, the solidness of the wall, and darkness.

Hermione opened her eyes as she lowered her wand, thanking whatever Gods that were listening that she got her _protego_ up in time. The right side of the room was completely ruined, and half of its contents were on fire. Her heart dropped to her stomach, however, when she saw Professor Snape. Or, rather, what was left of him. She ran to his side as fast as she could, putting out the remaining flames with her wand. As carefully as she could, she turned him on his back and tried desperately not to vomit.

His torso and head, which were completely unprotected, were burned beyond recognition. His hair had burned completely away and his skin was already forming into large blisters. She was happy the man was unconscious, because if he were awake, the pain would be absolutely dreadful. It took only a few minutes for her shock to wear off and her instincts to kick in. She had been studying mediwizardry since her second year, in preparation for when the boys finally did something to themselves in a situation where Madam Pomfrey couldn't sort them out. She cast a few basic numbing charms on the worst of his burns, and levitated him up to her room, laying him gently on her bed. When he was settled, she immediately began her work.

Luckily, the worst burns were limited to the areas of skin that was already exposed, so there were no awkward situations that required her to remove any more clothing. She focused most of her efforts on healing his burns while he was still naturally unconscious. It was slow and tedious work, re-growing the skin in small patches, but it was working, and that was enough to keep her going. Hours later, most of the damage had been taken care of. She cast a few diagnosis spells and grimaced at the results. His arm was broken, along with two cracked ribs. As she began to heal those, she couldn't help but chide the unconscious man.

"What on earth were you thinking? Holding such an ingredient over that potion so precariously? You knew what would happen if you added it! And working without a shirt on? I know it's hot down there, but Merlin, do you have any common sense? Do you have any idea how valuable you are? The Order needs you, and you almost blow yourself up over some potion! What were you even working on? Was it even remotely important? Merlin, man. You need to take better care of yourself!"

She prodded the newly fixed ribs with her wand for good measure, and was surprised when she received a grunt from the man.

"Miss….Granger…." he breathed, the words sounding labored. Hermione leaned in close to his face, willing him to open his eyes, to give her some assurance that she had actually healed him.

"Yes?" She whispered. "Yes, what is it?"

"Shut…up…."

Hermione threw her hands up in the air with an exasperated noise as Snape slipped back into unconsciousness.

_That man is completely impossible. _

_A/N: Hey all! I hope you liked it! Please review!_


	9. The Good Times

A/N: Hello, lovely readers! Did you miss me? I'm so sorry for this horribly late update, but I have a good excuse, I swear! I'm actually a college student (studying engineering) and we've just gotten through the first month of school, so things have been a little crazy. I hope to update more often, and the next chapter will be much longer, but here's something a little fluffy to brighten your day! I hope you like it! Please read and review!

"Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that."  
>― Martin Luther King Jr., <em>A Testament of Hope: The Essential Writings and Speeches<em>

Severus Snape was not in a good mood.

Causing an accident in the lab was embarrassing enough, but to have Miss Granger walk in on him _like that? _What was he thinking?! And that wasn't even the worst thing.

Severus sighed as he ran his hand through his new hair. The explosion had burned his hair all the way to the scalp, and Miss Granger had tried her best to regrow it, but magic could only do so much. He had styled it in the only way he knew how; the way his father always had. Shorter on the sides, longer on top, parted to the left. Originally the eerie resemblance to his father had startled him, but he was slowly getting used to it.

The new hair did have its advantages, however. He no longer had to tie it back when he was working, and he didn't get as overheated when he was brewing for long hours in the lab. It also suited his face much better, once he looked at himself in the mirror properly. The greatest disadvantage, he found, was that he could no longer spy behind long curtains of hair, and thus it was far more difficult to observe Miss Granger.

She had taken the entire incident rather gracefully, he had to admit. She had healed him with impressive speed and apart from her original rant, had said nothing else on the matter. In fact, she seemed to be avoiding him as of late, and often became rather flustered whenever they were alone together. _Does she?...no. No, that's not possible, Severus. Don't try to fool yourself. She's just embarrassed that she saw you in such a compromising way._

As if in some divine response to his very thoughts, the door to the laboratory burst open, revealing Miss Granger carrying a large tea tray.

_So much for avoiding me, _he mused. He regarded her carefully and acknowledged her presence with a nod of the head before turning head back towards the fireplace that he had been previously staring at.

"Do you require something, Miss Granger? As you can see, I'm so dreadfully busy."

"Not particularly, sir," she replied. "The weather's starting to turn really bad now, and it can get drafty when you're not brewing down here, so I figured you might want some tea." As if to assure him that her intentions were honest, she prepared a cup and outstretched it towards him. Severus eyed the tea warily, but accepted it.

"As you can clearly see, I have resolved the…draftiness."

"Yes, but a well-made cup of tea often warms more than just the body, sir." Hermione prepared her own cup and sat in the armchair opposite Severus, daintily crossing her legs. Severus raised an eyebrow at her, surprised at her boldness.

"Don't you have to be annoying somewhere else?"

"No, I'm afraid I'm free for the remainder of the school term. As are you, remember?"

The only response Hermione received was a rather menacing scowl.

"Sir, if we're going to be stuck in this house for the next year, shouldn't we at least attempt to be friendly with each other?"

"I have no obligation to be 'friendly' with a nuisance such as yourself."

"Nuisance?! I was the best student you ever had!"

"You were, and are to this day, the most annoying student I have ever had."

"I was hard working and attentive!"

"You were an over-achiever and a showoff. Excuse me, _are_."

"You were a completely unfair professor!"

"I rewarded those with a natural talent for the art of potions."

"And is my help-"

"Your presence is merely at Albus's insistence, girl,"

"-not a sign of my natural talent for potions?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "Are we going to forget the fact that it took you not two, not three, but _four_ attempts to produce a sufficient cake for your own birthday?"

Hermione's brown eyes turned cold. "And are we going to forget that on that day, I potentially saved your life?"

Severus opened his mouth to retort, but closed it quickly, drawing his cheek between his teeth. The girl had a point, he potentially owed her a life debt. There was always the chance that he would have survived on his own, of course, but even still, he would have never been able to regrow his skin on his own.

"Fine," he conceded. "I suppose, if it would make this living situation more bearable, you may spend time down here."

"Excellent," Hermione replied smugly, scooting further into her chair. "Now, if we're going to be friends, I simply must know more about you!"

Severus groaned inwardly and pinched the bridge of his nose. How is it that regret could fill a person so quickly?

…..

Hermione lay underneath her covers that night, wishing for her mind to calm. She had ended up staying with Professor Snape for nearly four hours that afternoon, although he had refused to answer any of her questions for the first forty-five minutes. After that, however, he had caved and Hermione had a completely new side of the dark Professor to analyze. He was an only child and both of his parents had died when he was still at Hogwarts, and he had no family to speak of. A half-blood, he had not been well received in Slytherin house, but was tolerated for his skill in academics and his knack for inventing rather nasty jinxes. By the end of the second hour, she had broken past another wall of his and learned much nicer things about him. His favorite color was surprisingly not black, but hunter green. He enjoyed music, but only classical muggle music. During his summers away from Hogwarts, he would take chemistry classes from a small muggle college. The Dark Lord had only allowed it under the pretenses of "learning the enemy's weaknesses." At the end of hour three, she had worn away even more boundaries. Professor Snape was extremely proficient at piano, but had not played in several months. He preferred Bram Stoker to Mary Shelly, and absolutely despised the telly.

Allowing herself to sink further into the unbelievably old mattress, Hermione smiled to herself and pulled the covers over her smile. As she drifted off into an easy sleep, the last thought to shoot through her mind was how unbelievably handsome Professor Snape looked when he wasn't frowning.


	10. Tis the Season

_**A/N: Hello all! Sorry for the late update, I hope you like it!**_

**Chapter 10 'Tis The Season **

December came to Grimmauld Place, catching its inhabitants by surprise. With Hermione and Severus working so diligently on their potions project, Molly had decided that her mothering presence was no longer needed full time, and had taken to spending most weeks at the Burrow, preparing for her children to return over the fast approaching holidays. On this particular December morning, Severus had left to buy groceries, and so Hermione found herself sitting by the window with a warm mug of tea.

The snow was quickly accumulating outside, and while the silence would have been peaceful to anyone else, Hermione was filled with anxiety and dread. It was the first time she had be left alone in the house since her parents had died, and she found that she missed the quiet sounds that came from living with Professor Snape. The lack of footsteps, the lack of the clinking of the tea kettle, the lack of creaking, all of this lead to an overwhelming silence that smothered Hermione. Her breath came quicker and her heart picked up its pace as she felt a familiar sense of panic set in.

These panic attacks had slowed down as the murder of her parents slipped into the past, but every now and then, they still reared their ugly head. The mug of the tea fell to the floor, spilling its contents, as Hermione gripped both arms of the chair until her knuckles turned white. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried counting backwards from 100 in a desperate attempt to calm down, trying desperately to ignore the buzzing sound that was filling her ears.

_100…99…98…97…. _

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione's eyes flew open and the buzzing stopped as she found herself staring straight into Professor Snape's black eyes.

_No, not black, _she thought. _They're brown, at least in this light. The color of freshly-brewed coffee. _

"Professor, I'm, I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in," she sputtered, reaching with shaking hands to pick up the fallen tea mug. Professor Snape frowned at the obvious tremors in her hand and non-verbally vanished the spilled tea, taking her hands into his own.

"How long have these panic attacks been happening?" He asked softly. Hermione was taken aback by his sudden gentleness, and by how warm his hands were.

"Since, well, that night. My parents."

Snape nodded pensively to himself.

"In the muggle world, they are sorely behind on treatments for post-traumatic stress disorder. The wizarding world has been far more fortunate. I will brew something to take care of those for you tonight." He raised an eyebrow, looking for approval. When she nodded in agreement, he continued. "Now, I did pick up food items for the next week, but I also stopped in Diagon Alley to pick up a few potions ingredients. While I was there, I saw something I thought you'd…appreciate. I took the liberty of bringing it here. Allow me to retrieve it."

Snape got up from his kneeling position and walked from the room.

_He looks so different when he's dressed for the muggle world – slacks and oxfords really do suit him. I must insist he shop in muggle London more often._

Something very warm brushed against Hermione's leg, and when she looked down to inspect it, she screamed in delight.

"CROOKSHANKS!"

Hermione scooped the purring ball of orange fur into her arms and held him close, relishing in having her familiar once again. Tears pricked at her eyes as she looked up at her professor, who was giving her the closest thing he could call a smile.

"I thought, it might make things…easier." He said, sounding almost sheepish as his hand rubbed the back of his neck.

The next thing he knew, his arms were full of Hermione Granger, who was whispering 'thank you's in between sobs. Severus allowed himself to wrap his arms around her and rest his chin on her curls, reveling in the feeling of another human.

_I could get used to this. _

In the few days that followed, Hermione and Severus didn't see each other very often. Molly Weasley had returned to Grimmauld Place with a plan: a plan to throw the best Christmas party of all time. And though it wasn't quite the 'best Christmas party of all time', Molly Weasely did through a Christmas party, and the 24th of December found Hermione and Severus surrounded by various Order members, an excess of good food and alcohol, and an underlying desire to run away from it all. Crowds had always made Severus nervous, and though Hermione was enjoying having other people around, her anxiety was elevated. However, she found that each alcoholic drink she consumed squashed down her nervousness a bit, so like any good scientist would, she decided to find out if alcohol could wipe it away completely.

She was four drinks in when she noticed Professor Snape slip out the side door, Molly, who was appalled and frightened that she had offended the man that she thought of like another son, sent Hermione after himm.

"Not trying to escape, are you?"

Snape whirled around and observed Hermione warily.

"Merlin, can't a man get a moment of peace around this place?"

Hermione covered her mouth in a sad attempt to smother her giggles. Snape raised an eyebrow at her. _Giggles, Miss Granger? Maybe you have had a few too many to drink._

"Normally, yes, but not at a Christmas party, especially not one thrown by Molly Weasley! She sent me looking for you, she was horrified that she had offended you in some way."

The side of his mouth turned up at that, giving her that half smile that she had grown so fond of.

"Molly Weasley could never offend me. That woman has been more of a mother to me than my own ever was. I just rather wanted a smoke, actually. There's far too many people here. I never was one for parties. Care to join?" He held the pack of cigarettes out to her in invitation. She smiled warmly at him, but shook her head.

"No, thank you. Never could get over the smell." Snape nodded and slipped the pack back into his coat pocket. The people in the next room roared with laughter suddenly, as if someone had just told an extremely funny joke.

"You should get back there," he said, gesturing to the drawing room. "They'll be wondering why you're away."

"Of course," she agreed, beginning to turn away. Suddenly, Hermione was filled with a sense of great purpose, as if she was standing upon a precipice and something very important was just about to happen. She turned around just in time to grab the sleeve of Snape's coat and tug him around so he faced her. The world became blurry, but this time, it wasn't from the alcohol. She had stood very closely to Snape several times when they were working on potions, but never face to face. Hermione was suddenly aware of many things; how tall he was, how broad his shoulders were, and the faint scent of the potions lab that was clinging to his clothes. As she looked up at him, caramel eyes met onyx, and she knew that she was doing the right thing. With bated breath and a speeding heart, she pushed herself forward until her lips collided with his.

At first, nothing happened. They both stayed perfectly still; Hermione in fear and Snape in shock. But then, ever so slightly, Snape began to move. He kissed her gently, his warm, dry lips moving softly at first, but then with a underlying tone of urgency that made Hermione melt against him. His hands came up to cup her jaw as he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. They stayed there for a moment longer, with nothing but the sound of their ragged breathing filling the air. Finally, Hermione stepped back and bestowed Snape with a beaming smile.

"Merry Christmas," she whispered, and with a quick glance to the doorframe above them, she darted from the room and back into the party.

Snape, filled with confusion and joy and guilt and all manner of emotions, looked up to where she had looked, and smiled to himself.

_Mistletoe. You insufferable witch._


	11. Something Wayward This Way Comes

A/N:  Sorry for such a long delay! The past year has been insane, but now that I have some downtime, I hope you enjoy this next installment. Hermione is still recovering from her loss, but very soon she'll be back in her usual fighting spirit!

Chapter 11

Christmas left as soon as it came, and the days that followed were filled with a serene peace. Hermione and Snape returned to Grimmauld Place, leaving Molly to care after her own family at the Burrow. While being completely alone in the old house was overwhelming for Hermione, she found comfort in being there with Snape alone. Unlike their friends at the Burrow, he wasn't constantly asking if she was okay, or pulling her in for unwanted hugs. He was the only one who understood her emotions right now, her inner conflict between her need for space and proximity. In the three days since they had returned, they had only spoken for a total of twenty minutes or so, but Hermione felt closer to Snape than ever.

Despite their comfortable companionship, Hermione still found herself unable to fall asleep some nights, her head filled with confusion and embarrassment. She had never meant to kiss Snape that night, never in her wildest dreams. Or rather, if she had, she had only meant it to be a small peck on the cheek. And she certainly had never expected Snape to kiss her back. Her own experience in that department was sorely lacking, but even she knew that that kiss was anything but platonic.

_So what does it mean? Does he like me? Was he drunk, too? Oh Gods, does he even remember? Should I tell him? Would he hate me? Or would he rather know? _

Hermione briefly played out several scenarios in her head, each with a different way of trying to remind him of what had transpired that Christmas night. After mentally watching Snape hex her several times, she decided he was better off in blissful ignorance, and fell into a fitful sleep.

Two doors down, Severus paced his own room, deep in thought. It had been over a month since Albus's last report, and it was unlike the wizard to be late. Either they were making too much progress to be bothered to slow down and write an owl, or something had gone wrong. Severus wasn't really sure which would upset him more.

_So soft…._

He shook his head violently, as if he was trying to physically remove the intrusive thought. This had been happening for the past few days. He could scarcely go more than fifteen minutes before remembering his kiss with Hermione.

_Since when have you called her Hermione, you old fool?_

Severus sat down at the edge of his bed, his elbows propped on his knees.

_She's too young, too naïve, and far too good for you, you old bastard. And besides that, she was intoxicated when she kissed you. She definitely doesn't remember, and if you were to remind her, she would probably die of shock. Or disgust. Or both._

With a sigh, Severus laid on his back and stared at the ceiling until he drifted off to sleep.

Severus awoke to a loud bang coming from downstairs. Exhausted and unimpressed, he rolled over and pulled his blankets closer. Miss Granger always awoke before him, and the pipes in this old house often creaked and groaned in the morning. Nothing to worry about, nothing to lose five more minutes of sleep over.

It was the following scream, however, that had Severus flying out of bed.

He descended the staircase two at a time, his wand drawn, his heart pounding. He knew that scream, he knew that voice. Miss Granger was in trouble.

As he rounded the corner into the kitchen, his fears were confirmed. Antonin Dolohov was holding a struggling Hermione, his wand pressing deeper and deeper under her jaw. With each prod, she whimpered slightly and fought against his grip.

"Ah, Snape," drawled Dolohov, "How nice of you to visit."

"Dolohov," Snape returned. "What are you doing here? The Dark Lord forbids the girl to be hurt. She could still be useful."

Hermione froze as Snape spoke. She could be dead any minute, and Snape was speaking as if he didn't care. His words voiced some concern, but only for her utility. Was this man really the Death Eater that so many believed him to be? She searched his face for any clues, any indication that the friendship she had built with this man wasn't just in her head, but found none.

_I'm going to die¸ _she thought suddenly. _This man has a wand to my throat and Snape doesn't give a rat's ass what happens to me. I am going to die._

As a newfound fear spread through her, she tried desperately to break free of Dolohov's grasp.

"Quiet, girl! Stop moving!" Dolohov barked. "Or else I'll send you to whatever hell your muggleborn parents are in!"

Hermione froze at that, and once again searched Snape's face. He was expressionless, and wouldn't even return her gaze. Dolohov continued to speak.

"You see, Snape, there's been talk. 'Bout you going soft. Then again, who wouldn't want to be cooped up in a house with this pretty little thing? Even if her blood is a dirty as…well, your hair."

Snape still have no response, and had his eyes fixed on a point on the wall behind them.

"You've been playing hide and seek here in this house for months, playing with your potions set and the mudblood, and the Dark Lord grows weary. Your time is up, Snape. You've reported nothing for weeks, and even at then, your information has been shoddy at best. But me," he paused and looked around the room, "think of how the Dark Lord will reward me when I tell him I've found the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix! And who inside it, but our double crossing, back stabbing little half blood. Tisk tisk, Snape. This won't look good on your resume."

Snape sighed then, looking incredibly bored. "He sent you out looking for this place? You, who couldn't find your own arse if it bit you?"

Dolohov's face turned bright red. "This is my own mission! A personal surprise to the Dark Lord! He thinks I'm off in the mountains recruiting giants, but how pleased he will be by my gift to him! I will present you and the girl to him, after I have my fun first, of course!"

"Oh Dolohov, you idiot." Snape looked Hermione in the eyes as he raised his wand. "Avada Kedavra!"

Hermione cringed as she felt the heat of the curse whizz past her head and hit Dolohov square in the neck. The man's eyes widened for a moment before he fell to the ground, dead. She stepped away from the body and walked towards Snape, her eyes never leaving his. When they were a foot apart, she stopped and tilted her face up to him.

"Thank you," she whispered, a tear rolling down her face.

Throwing caution to the wind, Severus slid a hand behind Hermione's neck and pulled her to him, pressing his lips against hers. She initially squeaked in shock, but then brought her own hands to lay against his chest, his other arm going around her waist. While this kiss began as innocently as their first, Severus quickly took charge, walking Hermione to the wall until her back pressed against it. He then lifted her up and pinned her there, allowing her a totally new angle to kiss him with. His mind was yelling in protest, screaming about how inappropriate this was, but when her mouth opened to his and her warm tongue pressed against his, every thought he had was silenced.

After a few minutes, he gently helped her regain her footing on the ground and gentled the kiss. When he opened his eyes to find her brown ones staring up at him, something very small and fragile within his heart snapped. Against all better judgment, this young woman really, truly wanted him. And he wanted her as well.

"What is this?" Hermione whispered, her voice shaking.

Severus drew her into his arms, reveling in the feeling of her head against his chest.

"I'm not sure." He whispered.

As Hermione nuzzled closer to him, the thoughts of doubt that had been previously silenced crept back into his brain. He looked at the dead Death Eater on the floor in front of them and was filled with questions.

_First thing's first, I'll mangle the body and send it back to the mountains. I'll make it look like an accident with the giants. Then, I'll send a patronus to Albus. Something is seriously, seriously wrong. _


End file.
